Long time, no see.

But today, I need to write. I need to write and write and write until everything that is in my brain is so fed up of being there that it just goes away and leaves me with the happy thoughts I am trying to push through.

It has been a really, really hard six weeks. To cut a long story short, I moved into my boyfriend's flat and then, six days later, he dumped me, citing no reason, only to find out a week later that it was in fact because he was shagging someone else. - Insert completely appropriate expletive of your choice here - This left me, not only dealing with the emotions of that situation, but homeless with stuff in storage, stuff in his flat and some stuff in a very small suitcase at a friend's house. I don't know what I would have done were it not for my little suitcase and my very lovely friends, I am more grateful than I can ever really show.

So now, here I am, not-quite-6 weeks later, in a lovely flat I share with a model. She's lovely, don't get me wrong, but we lead very different lives. For example, on Thursday, she spent the day on a beach in Cannes, drinking champagne, whilst I spent the day scrubbing vomit off my bag (such are the joys of teaching 5 year olds). This difference serves as a constant reminder that, whilst we do get on really, really well, this is not really where I am supposed to be.

But, where the hell am I supposed to be? I don't feel like I belong here, I'm not sure that I even belong in London anymore because, let's face it, what the hell do I have here now? I mean, other than work, but that can't be all I have? I have a few friends here, but I'm not sure they have truly crossed over from being 'work friends' to 'friends' (the difference being that, if I ever left my job, would I see them again?) and I don't have anyone here that I can just ring and be like, "want to go for a coffee?" and them just say "yes". Everyone else is getting on with their full lives with their new families, partners and friends and here I am, with none of that. Or, at least, not really here.

I know I can't go back home to Devon, I'd end up going insane. But, at the same time, I don't really want to stay here. But where do I go? I just want my life to come back together, rather than being so disjointed, with stuff and people and memories all over the place. I want to feel like somewhere is "My Home" again, like my old flat, and to feel like I am somehow in control of my life.

Basically, I want to know who I am, what I'm doing here and where I belong.

It's going to be another hard year...

Freaking out.

I am being forced to move house, because, let's face it, two burglaries in four months really was enough. I'm moving in with other people for the first time since living with people in university halls put me off, but only for 5 months because in the middle of all that, my boyfriend asked me to move in with him which will happen in August, after his tenancy has ended.

And, despite all of that, I do not want to move. I really, really do not want to move. I love this horrible, unsafe, scabby little flat so much because it was mine - It was the place I chose on my own, it was the place I bought my furniture for, it was the place I had been working towards having since I left school. It's beautiful, quiet and even though it's far away from just about everywhere, obviously unsafe, has dreadful carpets and curtains and I have annoying neighbours, I love it. I love living here, and I love living on my own. Other people are annoying, want to talk all the time, judge me from sitting on the sofa all day at the weekend, judge what I eat, judge what I do or do not do... I literally cannot think of anything worse than living with other people, my boyfriend included and all in all, I don't want any of this to be happening, not even a little bit.

Living with other people is like being on show all of the time. I can't spend all day on the sofa if I want to, I can't eat nutella from the jar for dinner if I have other people to feed too, I can't walk around with my Diana Ross-style natural hair without straightening it, I can't set my alarm for 20 minutes before the time I actually need to get up and press the 'sleep' button repeatedly, I can't put my deodorant on and then get back into bed when it's too cold to stand around and wait for it to dry, I can't spend whole evenings sat using the internet, I can't get up at the time I want to get up at weekends, I can't bleach my moustache and still wander around doing other things, I can't decorate the way I want to...

Generally, I am too selfish to live with people and my boyfriend rarely lets me get my own way, so I will be living his life AND I DON'T WANT TO. I don't care how many of my friends and family keep talking about me behind my back (although, fair play, they do tell me what they say to my face later) because apparently going out with someone for 12 months and not wanting to live together is weird, or not even living with someone by the age of 24 is weird, I DO NOT CARE. I LOVE LIVING ON MY OWN AND I LOVE HAVING MY OWN THINGS AND MY OWN LIFE. I DON'T WANT TO MOVE AND I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO LIVE SOMEONE ELSE'S LIFE.

I literally cry every time I think about it. I do not want any of this to be happening. I want to stay here in my own comfort zone, living my own life. I don't want this, any of it.

Someone make it stop, please?

Chinese new year, London style!

We went to see the celebrations in Chinatown today, and I thought I'd share some of the photos. I won't apologise for my appalling photography skills, you must all be used to it by now!

The start of the parade

Some of the professional dancers

The street decorations in Chinatown...

And some more.

My bag missed so my wish won't come true, but it still looks pretty.

This was a particularly amusing highlight from a free fortune cookie my brother was given.

I love London on days like today, it was so interesting! I learnt so much and saw such amazing things. I wish I could have taken more photos but the crowds made it almost impossible. It was a very good morning though! 

Kung Hei Fat Choi, everyone! 

Hopping about on crutches...

I've been stuck on crutches now since Saturday and whilst I can at least put my foot down now, realistically, I'm going to be stuck on the bloody things for the rest of the week. And it is driving me slightly mental.

Hopping mad, actually. Couldn't ignore the obvious pun, sorry.

But seriously, it has been a very revealing few days.

1) London hospitals are much more efficient than Devon ones. I was in and out of A&E within two hours on Saturday, saw the same doctor the entire way through and he even remembered my name. Much kudos to the NHS South London.

2) People are generally kind and courteous in that they will hold doors open, provide lifts etc, but only if it suits them. If it involves leaving someone alone with a class of 30 children whilst unable to walk so that you can keep your own teaching assistant to do your sticking in, people will choose the sticking in rather than helping. My so-called colleagues have made me cry so many times this week I've pretty much lost count and just plain stopped leaving my classroom. I hate that place this right now.

3) People apply health and safety rules when it suits them. We have a culture in this country of being too scared to do lots of things in case of health and safety concerns but if it means paying for a supply teacher, no-one cares. Get in to school, teach PE, keep doing playground duty... oh, but cancel your school trip and make your children cry because you had spent all term getting them excited for meeting a real Roman and going to a real Roman town and now you're not going. Because it's fine to be a health and safety/fire hazard when you are in school, but don't show us up outside of school.

4) There is a nice sense of camaraderie between people who find walking etc difficult. It's the first and only time that a stranger has spontaneously spoken to me in London just for a chat and to exchange stories.

5) Walking with crutches is the best way to get around central London markets on Sundays. People move out of the way, part a path to any stall you want to get to, you always get a seat on the tube, bus and train.

Every cloud has a silver lining...

London observations: Religion.

Religion is a massive in London. Like, really, really huge. Churches are over-subscribed to the point that Sundays usually require several services, Mosques are huge and Fridays see outpourings of people which I have only ever previously seen at large events like football matches and to me, that is amazing. Religion, here, is mainstream. Not for the 'sad' or the 'losers' or just that place you go on Christmas Eve for midnight mass.

In Plymouth, those religious few really are just that - a few. They are the minority who are mocked by the rest (the non-religious population) and most churches and the synagogue are struggling to survive. Bearing in mind the fact that there is so little demand for a mosque that the only 'mosque' is essentially someone's converted garage, and you get an idea of how different it is here.

That's why I find it so amazing that everyone is so religious. I knew of the diversity before I moved, but the fact that churches are so over-subscribed here that some services attract upwards of 1000 people? It amazes me, it truly does.

Religion in general amazes me to the point of being almost jealous of those who are religious. To feel that strongly that there is an all-loving God who looks over them and their families and to have that to turn to when you need support or guidance must be a great comfort. I don't know what I believe, but I don't believe that. I don't believe that if there truly is an all-loving God (I am talking Christianity here, although it applies to all religions I guess), that he would just sit by and watch the awful things which happen in this world go on. I know he gave us all free-will, but if I were God and I sat upstairs watching a man rape a child and I were truly all-loving, I would take free-will back and kick some ass. Or I would at least have a cheeky flick of some clouds in the direction of Somalia. No-one would ever need to know, but suffering would end. Simple.

Which is why I can't believe in God. It's not that I don't want to, I spent most of my teenage years as a part of the local church community through Girls Brigade and Sunday schools, and whilst I strongly believe in the Christian values and ways of living (tolerance, patience, forgiveness, treating others as you would wish to be treated etc), I just cannot bring myself to believe the stories or the existence of God at all.

Or if there is a God, he's rubbish. If I were marking his work I'd be using a "Try harder next time" stamp. And therefore, I wouldn't worship him anyway.

So, religious people of London, enjoy your communities and enjoy your beliefs. You're lucky to have them here, and lucky to have it at all.

Summer bucket list

So I'm taking part in Mama's losing it and her weekly writing prompts again! This one was a nice challenge (50 is a lot) which has taken me nearly three days to write but it gives me focus for the 8 weeks I have free this summer.

50 things you want to do this summer

1. Have a bloody amazing 'last night' with the girls; 
2. Decorate my classroom ready for September; 
3. Sort out my flat to make it into a home; 
4. Learn my way around where I live and find how to get to everywhere I need to; 
5. Buy a bike! 
6. Meet up with S one evening; 
7. Maybe meet up with L? 
8. Catch up with NJ whilst she still lives in London; 
9. Go to the cute tea shop Stefany at Influence recommended; 
10. Go to Greenwich market; 
11. Go to Brick Lane market; 
12. Go to Camden market; 
13. Go to the pizza place in Covent Garden that has unusual toppings; 
14. Visit the Tate gallery; 
15. Go on a day-trip to the seaside; 
16. Visit Fortnum and Mason to their bizarre food hall; 
17. Have a night out in London! 
18. Read at least two classic novels; 
19. Read at least five other books; 
20. Start making my Christmas presents; 
21. Shop for a graduation outfit at Bluewater shopping centre; 
22. Meet/see a celebrity! For no reason other than I'd like the anecdote; 
23. Use a nightbus in London; 
24. Make a pizza from scratch; 
25. Sing at a kareoke night (to tick it off my general bucket list); 
26. Take up kick boxing again; 
27. Have my hair re-styled; 
28. Get a tan! Natural or fake, not fussy; 
29. Have a champagne cocktail; 
30. See a stand-up comedy show; 
31. Learn how to make different flavoured bread; 
32. See a west-end show; 
33. Try my Mum's family recipe for sticky toffee pudding; 
34. Take up running and try to maintain my fitness level; 
35. Make home-made lemonade; 
36. Meet at least one of my new neighbours (just because the rural girl in me doesn't want to totally fade); 
37. Go for a walk along the Thames from my house; 
38. Go on a bike ride along the Thames from my house; 
39. Bake and decorate a cake; 
40. Buy myself some nice new smart clothes for my first day as a teacher; 
41. Go to visit my Nan for the day; 
42. Go to visit my Dad for the day; 
43. Go on a week-long detox (next week); 
44. Actually unpack everything! I don't want any boxes lying around by September; 
45. Have a picnic on the southbank; 
46. Do not get involved with any men. At all; 
47. Try sushi; 
48. Have my first skype date in two years; 
49. Make some new friends! 
50. Get into a routine of keeping in touch with my current friends and family. I don't want to be forgotten... ♥

Public displays of affection and my sick bucket.

Maybe I'm just more sensitive to it now that I'm single, or maybe it is on the increase because it's the summer and everyone is happier, but on every social networking site I click on (facebook, twitter, blogger, BBM etc), I seem to be bombarded with streams of people gushing about their other halves. Whilst I admit this is perhaps coming from the bitter-and-single camp (although I don't think I've pitched my tent in the 'bitter' field quite yet), this is something which has always bothered me.

Whenever I have been with someone, I view how I feel about them as private and certainly not something which I should be bragging about on facebook. Perhaps I've just never had those strong feelings for someone which I feel the need to scream about from every hypothetical mountain-top, which I haven't, but I just do not see the point of it. If you love someone, tell them, not all 300 of your facebook 'friends'! And I can definitely say that if someone I were seeing posted endless facebook statuses about missing me or about me being their missing puzzle piece (this is an actual quote from one of the vomit-inducing statuses I've had to endure this week), I would be on the phone dumping their ass within seconds. I'm a romantic and passionate person but that is an intimate side of myself which I would only ever share in private and I do not expect to be almost forced into a reciprocal PDA, and over facebook of all mediums? How tacky and impersonal.

So the point of this post? A call to anyone reading this - if you are guilty of this, for the sake of all your facebook friends, STOP IT. If you love your boyfriend/girlfriend, TELL THEM, not me. I'm happy for you, don't get me wrong, but otherwise I do not care.

And, to this end, don't get me started on people who post song lyrics. This is even worse. If you must make me reach for the sick bucket, at least do it from your heart, not your Ipod.

/end grumpy woman rant.

Happy weekend all! I'm hitting the shops to kit out my little flat tomorrow. Exciting, and no doubt calls for my first photo post (although I still do not have my camera back from the manufacturer)...

On nights like tonight.

I'm scared of going to sleep.

This may sound a bit strange, and I really ought to clarify it isn't the actual sleep which I'm scared of, it's the process of getting to sleep. It's the lying in bed with the events of the day whirling around in your head, and yet you're not quite conscious enough to have control over how they develop - this is the stage that I'm scared of. I think this has been going on for about four years now, and for four years unless I'm sharing a bed with someone I've always kept my TV on so I can listen to it rather than my own thoughts and this is the only way I can get to sleep.

Now, I'm not sure if it has become a habit (because although it takes a while, I can sleep without the telly when someone is here) or why I still have these problems, but the thought of going to bed without my TV on makes me cry and I literally cannot bring myself to turn it off. It's one of the few anxious behaviours I still have left, and given that on a daily basis it doesn't really bother me, it's not a behaviour I feel desperate to get rid of. However, on nights like tonight when I feel like the whole world is pushing me down, I wish I could just go to sleep to forget it all but it won't be that simple and this is when it annoys me. Even thinking about sleep gives me butterflies, and every time I think about it to even write this, I feel my heart beat a little bit faster.

I just wish I could choose when I switched off, rather than having to watch TV until I can't keep my eyes open any more. I wish I could just lie in bed without going over every bad thing that's ever happened to me. And on nights like tonight, I wish I could forget everything that happened today.

You see, due to what's now going round my university about me (and seriously, I knew rumours were bullshit but until I became the subject of one I didn't realise quite how much rubbish they were) and despite the fact that today was our last lecture, I just cannot stop going over it in my head. It's making me not want to go out, and I even contemplated shunning my friends from uni in the attempt to get rid of the association for good, but I know that's ridiculous and definitely so given what is going on.

I already hated most of the people on my course anyway, I now can't wait to leave and be with grown ups and not have these stupid, petty little problems dominating my life because, let's be honest, this really isn't an important issue. It's just a shame it's one of those stupid things that gets into your head and makes you feel small and ridiculed.

I swear, getting involved in that boy was more hassle than the good times were worth...

(I realise this post is a bit cryptic and unless you know me, which none of you do, some of this will make no sense. I just can't bring myself to tell you what they are saying, it's embarrassing enough without spreading the joy...)

People are just plain rude.

Since when did we become a society which does not value manners? Or maybe the question should be, since when did being an adult mean that you don't need to bother with the basic manners your Nans, Grandmas and Mums spent years drilling into you as a little child? Or if they didn't drill them into you, why not?

Manners are such a pet hate of mine with children, or rather the lack of. When I'm teaching and doing my voluntary work at Rainbows and Brownies, I always insist the children say "please" when they want something and then "thank you" when they get it, and the Brownies in particular are dreadful at it and nearly always need prompting with, "what's the magic word?" However, most of them learnt that they have to be polite to me to get anything after I shouted at one girl (and bearing in mind this is one of only two times I've ever shouted at a child) after:

Child: "I need some sellotape"
Me: "That's not a question."
Child: "Can I have some sellotape?"
Me: "What's the magic word?"
Child: "Now."

Ok, so most children are not that cheeky, but so few of them use their basic manners without prompting, and as for them interrupting other people, their manners are pretty much non-existent, even by ages 8 or 9. And whilst that used to surprise me, it's come to my attention recently that there are so many grown-ups who don't uphold the same manners and respect, so it's no real wonder that the children of today aren't learning their basic "please" and "thank you".

I have been particularly wound up by my family regarding this. My brother has returned from university as such a pretentious, rude little git that he talks over me, demands things without so much as even one 'magic word' and doesn't bother with basic courtesy of letting us know where he is, before coming home late and making my Mum cook his dinner. My Mum isn't much better: twice today she's told me to do various things without a  "please", and yesterday I made a journey out to buy guinea pig food after she forgot, not to get a "thank you" for that either.

Manners really do cost nothing, and a lack of them does put you very far down in my esteem. However, perhaps this isn't a commonly-held ideal any more, maybe we're going the way of the French who always comment on our manners because they don't bother and maybe being polite and nice to each other is a dying art.

Is it just me who feels like this? I know I'm in a particularly bad mood at the moment, (my brother, for talking over me, got severely shouted at and had the remote lobbed at his smug face, which actually shut him up for the first time ever) so I'm aware I may be being more sensitive to these things, but it can't just be me who is wound up by this sort of thing, and it's something which has persistently bothered me with children.

So I'm going to have a 'manners' award for my class when I'm teaching next year, I'm going to break the back of this rude epidemic 30 children at a time and I'm going to reward politeness as if it's the greatest asset in the world. Which, I genuinely believe, it is.

Bad habits.

I swear far too much. It's something I really need to sort out, it seems to flow so naturally now and it's so unladylike. On top of that, it'll get me into trouble one day because I'll end up saying it to the wrong person or to someone who is offended by it and I'll regret it. And my Nan is right: swearing is for people who aren't educated enough to find a better word, and I am educated but that doesn't come across when my main adjectives are "shit" and "bollocks".

Although it has been pointed out more than once that I do not come across in the way I should. Most people, after having spoken to me for the first time, don't believe that I'm intelligent because although I am academic, I have absolutely zero common sense, am clumsy and am slow to pick up on cues of sarcasm, irony etc. I also have a fairly poor general knowledge so crosswords and quizzes make me out to be a complete dunce. I suppose I've always been a bit obsessive with knowledge in that when I'm interested in something I have to know everything about it right there and then, but if it has never interested me then I won't know anything. I suppose there's nothing bad to be said about not having a head full of useless fluff, but it would be nice to be an asset on a quiz team rather than the one who makes up the numbers or who is sent to the bar mid-round.

I'm not sure how I go about rectifying that one though?

Anyway, my other issue is that I just cannot keep things tidy! No matter how hard I try, my room is always a mess, I always have piles of paperwork on my desk and piles of half-dealt-with post on the coffee table. This one I need to get sorted soon, otherwise I'll drive myself insane living in a pit on my own in the summer.

Again, I'm not sure how to sort that one out (excuse the pun), because I already really do try.

The final issue I think I need to sort out is being a bitch. We all do it, us girls, and generally girls who say they don't are liars as well as bitches. But it's not pleasant, has no real purpose and you never know who knows who and whilst it's never caught up with me yet, I fear one day it will. I think there's a lot to be said for the old adage "if you can't say anything nice then don't say anything at all" (thanks again, Nan) and I've decided to make a conscious effort to not be drawn into conversations like that or, worse, start or encourage them. Also, on a selfish note, I believe in karma, so being nice and positive about others will hopefully mean people see me in the same light.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

It's the 'golden rule' for a reason :)

New beginnings.

I keep thinking over how different my life will be this summer when I move to London. Whilst I currently live in a city, I live in a very small one at that, the pace of life is spectacularly different and the more I am realising the expectations are different.


Don't get me wrong, on gorgeous sunny days like today, Plymouth is the place to be.

Plymouth Hoe

But for the other 360 days of the year, it returns to it's usual guise of grey apathy and indifference. People here are generally happy with their lot in life, never aspiring to anything more and even if they do, they don't have the opportunities to progress so end up settling down quietly. It's something I've always known about Plymouth, and it's only been recently that I've been able to put my finger on what it is that makes me start crawling up the walls and browsing for cheap train tickets to London. And whilst that is obviously fine for some (and who I am to judge how others choose to live their life), it's not something I ever want to resign myself to. Hence why, on the 2nd of July this year (it's not a set date yet in anyway other than in my head), I'm moving to London.

Having been to London a few times recently for interviews and to visit friends or hit the shops, I'm now realising just how different things are:

The pace of life - whilst some people hate how fast paced and anxious London seems, I love it. People rush because they have somewhere to go, something better to be doing, someone they are desperate to see and it is that which epitomises my love for the city. Down here, if you saw a bus just closing the doors but there was another one in two minutes, no-one would even break out into a jog. Life is precious people, we should be fighting to enjoy and make the best of every second, and I wish people would realise that

The advert my friends talked about
(from the H&M website, I have no
rights to this image).

The style - In Plymouth, you are either a 'chav', an 'emo', a 'student' or a grown up. Which ever group you are in dictates the fashion you wear and the places you hang out. Everyone looks the same, no-one dares break the mould and when you do, you're mocked even for donning a bright lipstick. People look at fashion models and the people on the H&M adverts and question "who would wear that?" and state "well you can't wear that every day" or "no-one can work in heels like that". Yet in London, people wear what they want. There are no groups or cliques of fashion and trends, you can never feel too over-dressed or like you've made too much effort. And whilst this is a rather superficial observation, in some ways it isn't. In London, you fit in because you are one in 6 million, not because of the clothes you wear. And whilst it undoubtedly means I will spend my entire disposable income on clothes and shoes in my first few months, I hope it is as invigorating as it seems.

The things to do - In Plymouth, if it's raining, you either go: bowling, swimming, to the cinema, shopping or ice skating. If it's sunny, you go to: the Hoe, the Barbican or the beach. That is literally it. You struggle to think of new things to do after only a month-or-so simply because there is nothing new to think of, nothing new to do. When I move to London, I'm going to make a pact with myself - I will not go to the same place twice in my first year. Because I can, because I want to experience new things, meet new people, eat new foods and find new things that I didn't even know existed..

The food - This links to my pledge from the last point, because there is so much more to experience than what I can find here. On browsing the yellow pages, you find only 8 different cuisines listed, and one of those is 'British', and I want more. On visiting Brick Lane market with a friend last summer, the food hall there gave me more choice than I'd ever had before, and that was one small hall in one small part of London. I want to eat Ethiopian food, snack on Vietnamese products and guzzle down the tastes of Turkey, I want to try new vegetables, see new ways of cooking and, above all, take them home with me. Whilst I do love my 'Homepride' pasta bakes, there is more to food than that.

Travel opportunities - I want to go on the Eurostar and go to Paris! I want to fly away for the weekend to Prague, to Amsterdam, to Rome, to Madrid... and I want to do it all without a 4 hour trip to the airport either side of the trip.

Can you tell I'm getting rather excited about moving to London? I think I'm even more excited because I'm doing it on my own, not with a boyfriend, not even with a friend and although I will know people in London, I'm far enough away that what I do with my time is completely within my own control. Sounds amazing, I can only hope it lives up to my expectations, though seeing as life is what you make it, I'm sure it will.